844 days, 20,256 hours, 1,215,360 minutes, or 72,921,600 seconds. That is the approximate duration of my world tour. I never wanted it to end and now, in a manner of speaking, I suppose it never has to. If you wish to go by country do so by clicking on one above. They are numbered in the order I visited them, more or less. If you enjoy reading about it even a tenth as much as I enjoyed living it then you will not have wasted your time. Grab a refreshing beverage, settle in a comfortable chair, and make a journey across the world, experiencing it as I did. Then get off your ass and check it out for yourself. You're not getting any younger.

Sundarijal-Chisopani-Nagarkot-Dhulikel (Cannabis Trail, Nepal)

Oct
16th, 2009- My warm up trek is complete. Now it is a two day hiatus
in Kathmandu and then off on a 9 day, 270km (168 mile) river rafting
bonanza on the Sun Kosi. I am hoping the folks on this adventure
are both amicable and jovial or this is going to be a long trip.
Cross your fingers.

So
I met my guide Gopal for this recent hike on the morning of
the 13th and we headed out of Kathmandu by car. On the first day
we started in Sundarijal and made our way to Chisopani.
Gopal is an interesting fellow. About ten minutes into the trek I
find out that he has a Spanish girlfriend. Nothing shocking there,
until you consider that he also has a wife and a child. It gets
better.

He
met his senorita while she and her husband were in Nepal on
vacation. And by 'vacation' I mean honeymoon. Gopal was
their guide and apparently he went above and beyond the call of
duty. I guess you could say he is a ‘full service’ guide. I did
not inquire into the particulars but he did make it clear that their
nascent relationship was most challenging to maintain and required
more than one surreptitious rendezvous. I believe it was the bathroom
area that served as a convenient meeting place.

Gopal’s
wife has no clue nor does the husband of his little muchacha. Neither
plans on a divorce but this does not deter their hearts (The heart
wants what the heart wants). She is coming to visit in April w/o the
hubby. Sparks will fly and the earth will move, at least according to
the thrice daily e-mails Gopal receives from his guapa.
Who needs “The Bold and the Beautiful”? I have Nepal.

It
did not take me long to discover that my fearless guide has a third
love, known affectionately as Mary Jane. This is not so surprising as
the stuff grows wild all over the place. In fact, you can find it
growing between houses, next to the trails, and just about everywhere
in between. Although drugs in general, and marijuana in particular,
are illegal there does not seem to be a whole lot of emphasis on
enforcement. As I walk the busy streets of Thamel (a
district in Kathmandu) I am offered illicit substances at regular
intervals (perhaps I have the look of an addict). Ganja, hash,
cocaine, and even heroin are all part of the pharmaceutical
cornucopia. Heroin? Seriously? That one took me by surprise.

Every
time an offer is made I have to giggle. It usually starts with an
offer for a rickshaw ride, tiger balm, or some other type of street
fare but soon devolves to a more scandalous nature and is always
accompanied with a marked drop in decibel level. “Excuse me.
Rickshaw? Monkey Temple? Massage? Girl? White woman? Hash? Marijuana?
Cocaine?” Although the thought of shooting heroin and fornicating
with a Nepalese hooker while avoiding prison is most attractive I
somehow manage to decline every time. Nepal did abolish the death
penalty so I am not sure what my problem is.

But
I digress. Back to Gopal. He too seemed intent on getting me to
frolic with Puff the Magic Dragon and appeared disappointed when I
thwarted his advances. It was then that I learned that marijuana is
actually legal for one day of the year in Nepal. On Shiva’s
birthday (Hindu's supreme deity) I guess whole families hit the bong.
And if what I have read is correct Shiva himself is also fond of the
magic bud. Kind of makes you wonder why it is not legal the rest of
the year, although I suspect it is on a de facto basis.

The
trek was not so arduous although I will admit that my legs did not
appreciate three days of climbing after an extended hiatus from such
activity. We spent the first night in a hill town of Chisopani. As
the Lonely Planet puts it the town is like “a grubby little truck
stop without the trucks.” However, the mountain views are nothing
to shake a stick at.

The
town is not so memorable but my encounter with a Nepalese army major
was. He introduced himself and upon learning that I was American
informed me that he had been to Orlando, Florida. Interestingly, he
did two six month stints as part of a United Nations peacekeeping
force in Hati of all places. Where did he go on vacation?
Disney World, Universal Studios, and the Kennedy Space Center. Where
else?

The
morning after my arrival in Chisopani he was kind enough to
show me the small cheese making operation in town. Locals sell milk
from buffaloes and yaks from which cheese is made. He then
invited me to his small military outpost on a nearby hill for a cup
of coffee. How could I refuse? So there I was sitting at a small army
outpost on a hill taking in a view of the Himalayas while a major in
the Nepalese army showed me his brochures from Universal Studios and
the Kennedy Space Center. That, my friends, is why I travel.

Cheese factory

I
bid my new friend a fond farewell (we exchanged e-mails) and set out
for the town of Nagarkot. We did a little more lolly-gagging
than I would prefer but I suppose it was ok to take it
slowly for the first trek. Part of the hold-up was due in no small
part to long lunch breaks. Cooking time is very slow at some of these
hillside restaurants. A small but significant factor was the rise and
fall of the motivation level of Gopal. As you might guess it
bore a direct relationship to the level of THC in his blood. At his
height he was barking, mooing, baaing, and clucking at the
appropriate animal as we walked past for poops and giggles.
Entertaining but also a smidge vexing when I was in
haul-ass mode. What can you do? He is a pleasant fellow so I have
little reason to complain.

In Nagarkot I
slept at the Hotel Viewpoint which, as you might expect, had an
excellent vista of a portion of the Himalayan range. One of
the most enchanting features of the mountains, especially when viewed
from a distance, is that the snow capped peaks appear to materialize
out of a blackish-gray void directly beneath them. Ethereal, magical,
and majestic.

At
dusk the peaks bear a subtle shade of pink and at dawn are
illuminated by a rising sun. I’ve discovered that capturing
the reality of their grandeur on film is not so easy a task. The
distance, the light, and the mist conspire against amateurs such as
me from duplicating the essence of the scene. I imagine that the
quality will improve with subsequent treks deeper into the Himalayan
heartland.

I
cannot resist mentioning the group of Chinese tourists that found it
impossible to simply take in the scene without engaging in incessant
chatter about who knows what. I believe a slap fest was in order but
who the hell am I? Really?All I wanted was a few moments of relative
quiet while I basked in the quasi-spirtual nature of the scene.
Selfish me.

Have
I mentioned the Maoists? Starting in 1996 a communist insurgency
arose seeking to further the plight of the disenfranchised. To make a
long story short they persisted and eventually became a legitimate
part of the government. Their leader even served as prime minister
for a spell. Their propaganda can still be found painted on the walls
in towns and villages. From a tourist standpoint the Maoists never
posed much of a direct threat (more of a wrong place, wrong time
potential scenario).

Although
encountering the rebels on the trail would result in the solicitation
of a small ‘donation’ normally a receipt was given so folks could
pass unimpeded the next time around. For the most part tourists
enjoyed this and viewed the receipt as a one-of-a-kind souvenir.
Gopal had an interesting experience some years ago. While guiding a
trek with an American bloke he walked right into a firefight between
the Maoists and the Nepalese Army. They pressed on through a small
gorge (with packs overhead for optimal protection) and made their way
to a small village school were they hunkered down with the teachers
and children. After the Maoists skidaddled (theirs was a guerrilla
hit and run operation) the army surrounded the town and began
questioning the villagers. Gopal told me had his client not confirmed
that he was in fact the guide it would have been good night Irene for
him. Nothing like a nice relaxing trek through Nepal.

The
final day of my trek was probably the least enjoyable. Although the
morning found us meandering down through hillside villages the better
part of the day was spent walking along the road through a number of
not so attractive towns and exposing ourselves to the relentless
cacophony that is third world traffic. Everybody honks. Nobody
listens. I love it.

WTF?

Adventure + Pinic = Awesome

By
the end of this day I thought my legs might revolt. Walking on
pavement for three hours or so will wreak havoc with your lower
extremities. We were going to catch a local bus to our hotel in
Dhulikel but Gopal thought the hotel was much closer than it was. It
was his first time to this particular hotel and he did not realize
that it was 4 km outside of town.

The
Dhulikel Mountain Resort was rather hospitable and the view from my
window was not unlike the one I had from the top of the hotel in
Nagarkot, which is to say beautiful. The drawback to staying in such
a place (up market) is the distinct lack of peers. The crowd on this
night was a mostly a group of mature German tourists. Not exactly the
‘swing naked from the chandeliers’ crowd.

Before
dinner the guests were treated to a sequence of traditional Nepalese
dances. Normally, I shun such things as more often than not they are
nothing more than cheesy tourist poop. This actually turned out to be
quite entertaining and although it was performed by young amateurs
many of the dances are in fact authentic.

One
of the most interesting was the dramatization of a medicine man/witch
doctor. In some of the more remote areas advanced medical care is
non-existent so folks have to rely on traditional methods, which
includes the chanting, singing, drumming, and incantations of a
medicine man. Although it was performed with a healthy injection of
levity in reality these ceremonies can be life and death. Gopal
informed me that his father is himself one of these traditional
healers.

We
were also presented with a couple of comically dubious performances.
I shall not forget the Yak & Yeti dance. Imagine two
individuals, one donning a yak costume, the other showcasing a yeti
disguise engaged in some sort of musical/theatrical interaction. The
yeti entered the scene mounted atop the rambunctious yak. He
dismounted and the bizarre ritual began. At more than one point
during this unique exchange it appeared that Mr. Yeti was attempting
to dry hump Mr. Yak. Probably not the effect they were going for but
that is what it looked like. I may be mistaken but I think the Yeti
was break-dancing at one point. Never seen a yeti break dance?
Clearly you have not lived.

The
next morning I was treated to some more stunning scenery painted in
the colors of a rising sun. I find it hard to believe I could tire of
such a sight. The trip concluded with a hot, noisy, nauseating and
adrenaline-laced car ride back to Kathmandu. I stared straight ahead
from my station in the back seat to avoid vomiting but had to channel
subtle pangs of terror as a result of the traffic snafu.

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Who and Where

'Now as I look around, it's mighty plain to see, this world is such a great and a funny place to be....' No job. No house. No car. No clue. Me in a nutshell. Might as well hit the road, right? So far: Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, Vietnam, Nepal, Bangladesh, United Arab Emirates, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Abkhazia, Denmark, Germany, Czech Republic, Tunisia, Morocco, Western Sahara. Mauritania, Mali, South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Turkey. USA. Next: ???

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I wander this world in search of that which I will never find. It is the journey that matters, not the destination. Along the road to oblivion I may, one day, be able to ask the most interesting question. Is the answer relevant? Or more importantly, would I really want to know after all?